


The Gates of Silvermoon

by Shaymed



Category: Warcraft III, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Major Character Undeath, Quel'Thalas, Silvermoon City, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 07:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14744912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaymed/pseuds/Shaymed
Summary: The scourge has reached the gates of Silvermoon and the elves must now make their stand or lose their city.





	The Gates of Silvermoon

Bells woke Alisbeth in the morning. She blinked at the ceiling, then closed her eyes, remembering the terrible night before. She flexed her left arm and sighed, realizing Koltira was still there and still asleep. Gently, she turned over to hold him closer as she frowned at the blood still staining his white hair. Now she could smell it on him again, the stench of blood and battle…and undeath.

Her door burst open, then slammed closed again.

“Are you decent?” So’daras asked from the other side.

“I am.”

He entered and blinked down at the two, but made no show that it surprised him, nor that he cared. “They’re here. They’re right outside the gates.”

Koltira sat up suddenly as though he hadn’t just woken. “They’ve got all the moonstones. We have to protect the city.”

Alisbeth grabbed his hand as he stood. “Are you sure—”

“I won’t fail my people as I failed my brother.” He wrapped his cuirass around himself and set to clasping the buckles.

Alisbeth and So’daras exchanged glances, before she nodded. “I will prepare mys—”

“No.” Koltira spun on her, a strange expression in his blue eyes. “Stay here and—” He flinched as Alisbeth’s fist met his shoulder.

“Don’t ever tell me to stay out of a battle like some helpless maiden.”

He shot So’daras a glare as the other chuckled into a fist. “Fine, just…be safe.” He grabbed the rest of his gear and stared for a long time down at the cloak splattered with Faltora’s blood. He abandoned it there and left the room, grabbing So’daras by the collar and dragging him with. Once the door was closed he pinned the lieutenant against the wall.

“Problem, Farstrider?”

“Don’t you dare let anything happen to her,” he hissed.

“That’s kind of my job, isn’t it?” So’daras smirked.

Koltira’s eyes searched the hallway for any eavesdroppers. “If anything happens to me, get her out of the city. I don’t care what you have to do.”

So’daras blinked at him. “She’s more than capable of protecting herself, Deathweaver.”

The previous night’s events haunted the Farstrider’s eyes as he shook his head. “Not against this,” he whispered. “Not if they get into the city. Promise me, So’daras. Don’t let her do anything stupid.”

“Oh, now you’re just asking me to tie her down and not let her participate at all.”

Koltira pursed his lips impatiently.

He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay. Anything happens to you and I get her to safety. Just…don’t let anything happen to you. Not so hard to do, right?”

 _May the better warrior prevail._ He released the other elf and looked away, knowing the challenge against the death knight which still lay before him.

So’daras slipped back into the paladin’s room in time to help her buckle her armor. They remained in silence, both thinking of the night before, when the Farstrider had appeared in their encampment on the front lines to beg use of her steed. He’d ridden with Alisbeth, who pulled far ahead of her Lieutenant on his hawkstrider; Bloodmane, her charger, was bred and trained for the chase and for battle.

“I won’t let our home fall,” Alisbeth said.

“ _Our_ home?”

She smiled softly. “It’s grown on me.”

“You mean Deathweaver’s grown on you.” He held up his hands as she spun to punch at him. “I’m not shouting it from the rooftops, your secret is safe with me. Just don’t let emotions cloud your judgements.”

“I won’t.”

The two met the other forces gathered near the front gates. Alisbeth pulled the reigns to stop Bloodmane beside a familiar head of white hair in a high half braid. Alisbeth frowned down at the bloodied and battered Ranger Lord, torn cloth wrapped around his head to hold a bandage over his eye.

“Lor’themar, let me—”

He took Liadrin’s hand as she approached him. “I’m fine, priestess. Spare your energy for those who really need it.”

She pursed her lips and glanced at Alisbeth. “Captain.”

“Liadrin.” She looked down at her armor as the priestess did. “I am uninjured. This is…Farstrider Deathweaver’s blood.”

“Which Deathweaver?” Lor’themar asked.

“Faltora.”

“And it’s on you, why?” Liadrin asked.

Alisbeth swallowed. “Koltira escaped…barely. He came to warn the front of the scourge. We rode through the night to warn the capital.”

“I came from the Amani front,” Lor’themar said, his tone dark.

“And?” Liadrin pressed.

“I was attacked by elves who’d been slain and risen as…horrible creatures.”

Alisbeth’s breath caught. “M-my troops? I left them in command of Corporal…Pinkie.” She pursed her lips, angry she’d never taken the time to learn her real name.

“The lass with the obnoxious pink socks?” Lor’themar asked.

Alisbeth nodded. “Her lucky stockings. Never wears anything else.”

His frown deepened. “I’m so sorry, Captain. The elf who took my eye was missing a boot…she was wearing pink stockings.”

She clenched her jaw and tried not to think about the men and women she’d just lost, knowing that there might be many more to add to the list to mourn later. Instead, she cast her gaze to the archers that had lined up on the wall and over the main gate. There had been shouting back and forth between Grand Magister Belo’vir and Arthas. Her bones chilled at the sound of his voice. It was the voice of the prince she’d known, and yet it was warped. Cold. It echoed and carried and rang in her heart and pulled the air from her lungs.

_My prince, what have you become?_

But she didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to see him as the reports had painted him. She wanted to remember him as the man she’d known, the one she’d watched grow from just a little screaming baby. Her hand balled into a fist as she remembered hearing of his slaying of his own father, the king she’d pledged her sword and her life to. If only she’d been there to protect him…

Silence fell and the mood shifted as the elves along the wall seemed to stiffen or tempt turning away from the fight. Belo’vir whispered into the ear of a magi, who disappeared in a flash of light. Moments later gargoyles took to the skies. Two tore into a circling dragonhawk, throwing its rider to the ground and tearing the creature in two. The halves fell to the earth as elves dove out of the way. More dragonhawk body parts and their riders rained down upon the city.

“Come on, you ragged sacks of flesh. Come and learn what it takes to slay an elf!”

Alisbeth blinked up at the elves on the wall as Koltira shouted down at the army below.

“And I thought you were the one I was supposed to keep from doing something stupid,” So’daras mumbled beside her.

The ground beneath their feet began to rumble. Alisbeth unsheathed the Redblade and clenched her jaw. Mounds pressed up, cracking open the street. Nerubians crawled from the holes, leaping at any elves too near and tearing them limb from limb. The creatures not engaged in the slaughter turned their sights on the gate, ramming it with the hard shells of their bodies and clawing at it with sharp hooks on their front limbs. On the other side of the gate, the undead army threw themselves against the doors.

The wooden gate groaned and splintered, then shattered under the abuse. It tore the upper arch in two, leaving archers in a free-fall down into the scourge army’s grasp. The Grand Magister slipped, but was caught and pulled to safety. Koltira narrowly escaped falling to his own demise. He stopped and grabbed at the elf beside him as the wall continued to break apart, taking the other man with it. They fell, but Koltira managed to avoid a tumble off the edge. He gripped the other with both hands and began pulling. A guttural laughed echoed up to them as a geist leapt from the river of scourge and latched onto the dangling elf. It wrapped its large hands around the elf’s head and dug its long, black claws into the flesh of the man’s neck.

“I’m so sorry,” Koltira whispered as he stared into the terrified eyes of his kinsman.

He released the archer’s hands as the geist laughed again and tore the elf’s head from his shoulders. Koltira skittered backward and ran along the wall to join the other archers firing into the swarm.

Alisbeth readied as the army neared where she sat upon Bloodmane, the mare’s armor gleaming in the light of the sun. She held the Redblade in one hand and swung, taking the heads of the ghouls that came near. The charger reared up, smashing in the skulls of the attacking undead, then bucked to kick the head of one clean off. A pile of bodies grew around the two as they cut down everything that came their way. The ground beneath her rumbled. Bloodmane cried out in pain as a nerubian shot from beneath the street to bury its claws into her stomach. She bucked and threw her mistress to the ground, then fell to her side.

“ _Bloodmane!_ ” Tears stung at Alisbeth’s eyes, but she knew she mustn’t let her emotions take hold.

The nerubian turned its sights on the paladin, who skittered backward over the pile of rotting corpses. An arrow lodged in its eye, followed by another as Koltira ran to her side, balancing each step on the head of an undead creature just long enough to stride, but not enough for them to grab him. She stood and swung her great sword up, severing the head from the arachnid.

“Are you okay?” he demanded.

“B-Bloodmane—”

“Are _you_ okay?”

“Yes. Get back to the wall.”

He nodded once, threaded his fingers in hers and held her gaze a moment longer, then rushed through the scourge, cutting them down with his sword as they neared. Alisbeth stood and threw herself back into the fight, adding to the pile she’d started with her charger. She kept her back turned just enough to not get sight of the mare, lying mutilated on the ground.

“ _Koltira…_ ”

The voice echoed from the walls and sent a chill through the air. The scourge army spread to make room for a man clad in dark armor. His breath came out in a puff of vapor. As though the army knew not to touch him, the undead moved away from Koltira and made a path directly to the death knight.

“What did you do?” Alisbeth asked on a whisper.

Koltira sneered and charged the death knight. Alisbeth cried out and cut through the scourge, trying to make her way to him.

“Your fate awaits you,” Thassarian said as Koltira’s sword collided with his own.

The human shoved the elf back and swung wide, but Koltira leapt backward. As Thassarian was still in his downstroke, the elf sprang forward, bringing his blade arching down. The man raised his arm to block the blow, then batted Koltira away. They continued like this, back and forth, an evenly matched pair. Then, as Koltira finally had the upper hand, Arthas stepped into the gates. He cast his malicious gaze on the dueling pair and Thassarian was suddenly bolstered, gaining a new strength he hadn’t possessed before.

“Koltira, run!” Alisbeth screamed. “Run, it’s a trap!”

Thassarian shoved the man back and kicked his kneecap, bending it backward with a sickening _crack_. Koltira cried out as he fell to the ground.

“Do it,” Koltira said, his hair falling between his eyes and fluttering on his panting breaths. “Be a mindless pawn and forever damn your soul.”

Curiously, the death knight hesitated, as he had the night before when he’d nearly taken Faltora’s head. But this time his victim couldn’t flee. This time, Thassarian couldn’t let him go. Arthas grinned as the death knight’s snow flurry eyes flared into angry blizzards.

Alisbeth felt like time slowed and she was running through water. Her path was barred by scourge and it seemed as though Koltira was miles away. As though no other sound existed, the sound of the sword tearing through the thick leather cuirass, breaking through the elf’s ribcage, and bursting out the other side, traveled strait to the paladin’s ears and stabbed into her heart.

“ _Koltira, no!”_ she screamed, blinded. She removed her helmet as tears cascaded down her cheeks.

Koltira’s eyes slipped sideways at the sound. Blood rolled from his lips. He made the softest of sounds, wanting to shout out to her, to run to her, to protect her and keep her from doing something stupid. But he couldn’t move from the blade. The blue light of his eyes dimmed and went out, Alisbeth being the last image held within them.

Thassarian kicked the elf from his blade and stood over the corpse as though admiring the display.

Alisbeth took three heads in one sword swing as her rage spurred her forward. “I know you!” she called. “I know your voice. And I name you. Thassarian. My once comrade. Now my enemy! I will k—” The world went dark as a strike on the back of her head knocked her unconscious.

~ * ~

As the fighting died down, So’daras peeked from where he’d hidden Alisbeth. Silvermoon lay in ruin—bodies of his kin and the scourge lay dismembered in a pool of blood that coated the once clean limestone street. Buildings had collapsed or had been demolished by the catapults, their stone walls still crumbled, some boulders tumbling down to crush a lifeless body beneath. His eyes caught on the green effuse glow of the Redblade; he cursed himself for leaving it and crawled cautiously forward, staying low to avoid being noticed in the chaos. Bile crept into his throat as he shoved aside the mangled tail of a dragonhawk, only to have his hand sink into the rotting face of a ghoul. His stomach turned, and combined with the smells of death surrounding him, it was all he could do to not vomit. When he reached the sword, the elf paused, as he realized the death knight was still there, kneeling over Koltira’s now cold body.

“ **Are you certain?** ” Arthas asked at Thassarian’s shoulder.

“He is a great warrior, my king. It would be a waste.”

“ **Raise him, my servant. Raise him for my army.** ” He set his great gauntlet on the man’s shoulder.

Thassarian held his sword out over the elf’s corpse. Purple tendrils streaked like lightning down into the lifeless flesh beneath. After a moment, Koltira’s wound closed—the skin crawling over the exposed innards and knotting together in an ugly scar. His empty eyes filled with snow and he blinked. Then, he reached up to wrestle the sword from Thassarian.

“Calm down…brother.”

“ **I see your mind.** ” Arthas released a dark laugh. “ **A loyal servant deserves a grand reward. A steed, as my other death knights ride.** ”

Koltira closed his eyes. He willed his body to get up and fight. Instead, he accepted Thassarian’s help to his feet, then faced his new master and awaited orders.

“ **Yes… A charger of Lordaeron. How fitting.** ” He eyed Bloodmane, her white fur covered in filth, viscera hanging from her open belly. “ **Raise this beast and ride as one of my champions, Koltira.** ”

_No. Don’t make me. I can’t._

Arthas raised an eyebrow. “ **A paladin’s charger is a fine warhorse. Do you not think you are worthy of such a gift? Raise it. Claim it.** ” He laughed, enjoying the torture he sensed tearing through Koltira’s mind.

The prince set his black gauntlet on Koltira’s shoulder and the elf’s hand raised out over the horse; the same purple tendrils shot to her. _I’m so sorry._ Bloodmane’s stomach stitched together and her fur withered to black. She stood on glowing hooves, her armor rusted and red as though brought from the realm of death. She eyed him cautiously, then nosed the side of his head, as though she understood his pain.  He knew then that calling the mare by her old name wasn’t appropriate, so he thought of something else.

“Bloodmist,” he whispered.

The horse nuzzled him in reply.

“Find yourself a weapon,” Thassarian said. “You’ll need it.”

As though called by the weapon, his eyes found the glowing green edge of the Redblade. He went to it as a man wrapped his hand over the hilt. Koltira set his boot on So’daras’s fist. Seeing the blade lying there, something broke inside him. His insides grew colder than they already were and a silent rage took over. He wanted to take the sword and slay everything in sight; because if the sword lay abandoned then its owner must surely be dead. And if she was dead, then the elf at his feet had gone back on his word.

“Koltira, my friend, look at me! It’s So’daras!” Fear stabbed through the elf as he ripped his hand from beneath the new death knight’s boot.

Koltira lifted the sword, the handle shimmering to a dark blue, and advanced on the man, who skittered back as fast as he could.

“Deathweaver, please. Listen—”

“I listen only to my master.” Koltira looked to Arthas, who grinned and sent his will into the elf.

“Koltira, plea—”

So’daras’s head rolled across the wide blade, his mouth agape and eyes wide with shock.

 _For Alisbeth._ He stared at the sword, then looked around for a body clad in glimmering plate—for a moment contemplating dooming her to his terrible fate.

“ **Come. We advance to the Sunwell, champions.** ”

Koltira resisted to search a little longer.

Arthas turned a frown on the elf. “ **Come.** ”

Sighing a puff of vapor into the warm air, he climbed onto Bloodmist and fell into line beside Thassarian. He rode in silence, a poisonous anger bubbling within him.

_One way or another…I will avenge you…_


End file.
